


Night Shift

by Aussie_Muggle



Series: Ladies of POI: Joss Carter [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Gen, because shaw, gratuitous fluff, ladies of poi challenge, prompt: insomnia, rating for fairly mild language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 23:13:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3787876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aussie_Muggle/pseuds/Aussie_Muggle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After her demotion, Carter struggles with the night shift schedule. Her friends help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Shift

**Author's Note:**

> For tumblr's ladies of POI challenge. The prompt was insomnia.

Carter trudged to her patrol car, her limbs aching and her head pounding. She looked up and froze mid-step.

There was something on the hood of her car.

Her eyes had not adjusted to the dim light and she couldn't make it out. Her mind immediately ran to Simmons and Terney. It could be something incriminating to get her thrown off the force for good. Or something dangerous to get her killed.

 _It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you,_ she thought bitterly.

She had already pulled out her torch when she caught the comforting smell and realised what it was.

Sitting on her hood was a flask of hot coffee and a box of only slightly stale donuts. Beside them was note in Fusco's untidy scrawl.

 _Chin up,_ _partner_.

*

She found her gangly teenager splayed across the couch, his mouth opened wide and his snoring a little too loud to be dignified. Carter smiled and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. Taylor jolted awake and struggled into a sitting position.

"M’not sleeping,” he mumbled.

"Sure, you're not,” said Carter wryly. “You shouldn't wait up for me, baby.”

Taylor pointedly ignored that.

"I made you hot chocolate,” he said, rubbing his eye and stretching his neck. “It should help you sleep."

Before she could protest, Taylor headed to the kitchen, started the microwave and quickly returned with a steaming hot cup.

"I'm sleeping just fine,” insisted Carter.

Taylor gave his mother a look that disquietingly resembled the one she herself gave John the other day in response to “It’s just a flesh wound.”

"You didn't sleep yesterday,” he said tersely.

"I’m just getting used to the new schedule."

Taylor shot her that look again. Carter sighed and took the cup.

"I know it's been difficult for you-“

“This isn’t about _me_ ,” said Taylor sharply. “This is about _you_ devoting yourself to your job and those assholes-”

“Taylor.”

"Sorry, Mom,” he said, not sounding particularly sorry, “but I still think you should have quit and told those dirty cops to go f-"

" _Taylor_."

"... forth and multiply."

Carter had _no difficulties whatsoever_ imagining herself telling Terney where to he could shove his gun, but she was a cop. She couldn’t imagine doing anything else, despite the numerous job offers from mobsters and billionaire vigilantes.

An image of seven year old Taylor dragging her to his “bring your parents to school day” (and proudly declaring to his mortified teacher and several scandalised mothers that she shot bad guys for a living) sprang to mind.

“I thought you were proud that your Mom was a cop,” she said quietly.

“I am proud of you,” said Taylor firmly. “Always. I just don't respect the people you work with anymore.”

 _That_ , thought Carter, _was exactly the problem._

She took her son's hand in hers. She privately wondered when he had got so tall. She wondered when he had stopped being a child and when he had learned to distrust the world. She wondered if it was her fault.

“I need to get that respect back,” said Carter softly.

Taylor’s shoulders sagged slightly.

“I know,” he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Try and get some sleep, okay Mom?”

*

"You look like shit," said Shaw with her usual delicacy.

Carter was still in uniform. Which had been thrown up on by a drunk driver. One would think being transferred to the day shift would have reduced the amount of vomit in her life. One would be incorrect. Still… it was nice to see sunshine. 

"Thanks,” responded Carter dryly. “Who’s dying?”

Shaw gracelessly flung herself on the couch.

“No one yet but the night’s still young,” said Shaw with a bored sigh. “Where's the kid?”

“He's staying with Paul for a while.”

Carter when to the kitchen and tossed Shaw a chocolate bar. Shaw caught it deftly. Once she had devoured half the bar, she gave Carter a searching look.

"You're not sleeping again,” said Shaw over a mouthful of chocolate in a way that would have made Finch cringe.

Carter tried very hard to bury a surge of frustration.

“I’m sleeping just fi-”

“ _Bullshit._ Try again.”

"What the hell do you want me to say, Shaw?" snapped Carter. “That I spent months trying to get transfer to the day shift, but I still can't sleep for longer than three hours?”

Shaw raised an eyebrow. Carter knew Shaw wouldn’t all that bothered by her outburst, but couldn’t help feel guilty. She hadn’t deserved that.

"Come on,” said Shaw before Carter could mutter an apology. “Put on something sexy and come dancing."

Carter blinked. It took a moment to figure out if Shaw was serious, let alone how to respond.

"Shaw, I can’t,” she protested. “I smell like vomit.”

“So do the clubs,” shrugged Shaw. "Do you have work tomorrow ?"

“ _Yes!_ ” cried Carter.

"Trust me. Zoe will be there too. You'll sleep like the dead after, I promise. "

They spent a few moments exchanging exasperated and beseeching looks, before Carter caved.

"Give me twenty minutes,” she muttered, resigned.

*

Shaw had picked up Zoe at some point and Carter could just hear her friends talking through her sleepy haze.

“She’s out like a light,” said Zoe softly.

“I was a Doctor for a bit,” Shaw whispered back. “I know how to deal with screwy sleep schedules.”

“Clubbing is a cure for insomnia now?” asked Zoe, bemused.

“Light exercise in a stress free environment. But I'll take credit for her falling asleep in the car before we even get there.”

“I can picture you in a hospital ward.”

“Seriously?” scoffed Shaw. “You’re the first.”

“Well, I can’t picture holding your patients’ hands and handing out lollipops to kids after they have their shots… but I can picture you saving limbs and tearing into parents for not getting their spawn vaccinated.”

“You watch too much _House_.”

“You might be right,” said Zoe with a quiet chuckle. “You’re much better at shooting people.”

“Damn straight.”

”We should really head back. She’s completely out of it.”

They fell silent. Carter had almost drifted to sleep again when-

“You know what?” said Zoe suddenly. “This is absurd. I should have enough blackmail material to get her out of this mess.”

“Carter pissed off HR. Are you sure you can pull it off?”

“Have some faith, Sameen. It might take some time, but I have it handled.”

“Good. She doesn't deserve this crap.”

Carter was absurdly grateful her friends thought she was asleep. They didn't notice her hurriedly wiping her eyes. 

*

Carter caught sight of Finch and Bear heading towards her. Or more accurately, she caught sight of an over excited, over grown puppy who had forgotten his training and was now half dragging his master to greet her, while the poor man struggled to hold onto paper cups.

She had never really liked dogs. She had never been allowed pets growing up in a small New York apartment. But Bear had rested head on her lap after she had buried Stills and somehow made her feel infinitely better.

“Hi there, boy,” she said, scratching behind his ears.

Bear wagged his tail cheerfully.

“Good evening, Detective,” said Finch, a little out of breath.

Carter pursed her lips slightly at ‘Detective’. Maybe he had forgotten. Maybe it was just habit.

“Need any help from me, Finch?”

"Not at all. Mr Reese and I have everything in hand,” said Finch. “I took the liberty of bringing you some sencha tea, Detective. There's a little caffeine to keep you awake and I find it far more calming than coffee."

There was that ‘Detective’ again.

"I'm not a Detective anymore, Finch," said Carter quietly.

" _Well_ ," said Finch with glorious disdain. "We both know what utter balderdash _that_ is."

" _Balderdash?_ " she repeated with a small, grateful smile.

Finch made a gesture that resembled a shrug and handed her the steaming brew. Carter sniffed and wrinkled her nose. The skeptical look she shot in Finch's direction was met by encouraging motions towards the cup.

She took a sip. And immediately regretted it.

Finch was eagerly awaiting her verdict. Carter swallowed and forced a smile.

"Delicious," she managed to choke out.

She must have been utterly unconvincing because Finch sagged.

"Sorry, Finch,” she winced. “I appreciate the thought.”

“I suppose it is an acquired taste,” sighed Finch, sipping his own tea.

Someone gently touched her shoulder. Carter turned and found John Reese with a soft smile and another paper cup of his own.

“You’re not giving me tea too, are you?” she teased.

Reese replaced the tea in her hand with the cup he was holding. 

"Latte, two sugars. From Tony’s,” said Reese, shooting Finch what could only be described as a shit eating grin. “I know your order.”

Finch _humphed_ good naturedly.

"There's no need to be _smug_ , Mr Reese."

Carter laughed for the first time in weeks.

*

Carter made it to work five minutes early. Just enough time to call and ask Finch _what the hell was going on._

“Good evening, Detective Carter,” said Finch a little too cheerfully for pre-caffeine Carter’s liking. “I trust you slept well.”

“Finch, did you change the alarm on my phone and download a sleeping app?” she hissed.

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“I can't take the credit for that,” said Finch, and Carter could picture him frowning.

She could hear him typing away furiously. She was no longer alarmed at how effortlessly Finch could hack into her phone, but she had never stopped being impressed.

“It doesn't appear to be malware and the app itself is suited to your purposes. As far as I can tell, the changes were done on your end. Perhaps Taylor found the app for you?”

Taylor had been at a school camp all weekend. Before she could tell Finch so, an explanation occurred to her that somewhere in between deeply concerning and oddly reassuring.

“It… It was probably Taylor,” she said finally. “Sorry to bother you.”

“Not at all, Detective. I _did_ email you that journal article on altering circadian rhythms in shift workers,” said Finch. “Did you get a chance to read it?”

“I'll get on that,” Carter lied again. “Thanks, Finch.”

Carter hung up and risked glancing up the security camera.

“I'll be damned,” she muttered.


End file.
